It’s another windy day in late April. The winds whistle and howl, sweeping up grains of sand and dirt that recently melted out of the snow deposited by the mid-April blizzard.

Even though it’s not even 30 degrees and that bitter wind is blowing at speeds of up to 45 miles per hour, I can tell spring is in the air.

The wind carries the scent of snowmelt, of fresh dirt and old sand, of the new buds adorning the deciduous trees.

There’s little that compares to wonders of rebirth and renewal that occur during this season, the excitement of watching flora, fauna, and seemingly, the whole world, come to life right before your eyes.

There’s also little that compares to the impact of springtime on human beings, watching the collective mood grow lighter as the days get longer and the air warms.

Everyone seems to smile and laugh a little more, have a bit more energy, a spring to their step.

Nothing can feel truly bad during that first sunny 60-degree spring day, it seems.

However, everything feels a little different this spring amid the pandemic.

It feels a little more difficult to stay engaged and focused on the task at hand.

It feels a little more difficult to summon the amount of time, energy, and compassion that you want to offer others.

It feels a little more difficult to find joy and hope with so much of the future unknown.

Sometimes all of this feels like a personal failing, like a lack of resilience or strength or compassion.

But it’s not.

As hard as it is to admit and put into practice, it’s really and truly OK to not feel at your very best right now. It’s OK to give yourself and others some slack.

We still need to do whatever we can to find happiness for ourselves and others, but it’s harder to do that if we ignore the fact that this impacting every single one of us on a personal level.

Our lives and our world transformed basically overnight.

Many of us have basic needs that are not being met.

Many of us do not feel safe or secure.

Many of us are lonely.

It might sound obvious, but it’s worth spelling out: when foundational needs such as rest, food, water, shelter, safety, security and social interaction go unfulfilled, everything seems a little more difficult.

If you’re struggling to wash the dishes, go to work, finish that paper or reach out to a friend right now, it’s worth taking a moment to reflect on your basic needs.

Are you tired? Are you hungry? Are you scared? Are you lonely?

If you can say “yes” to any of those, it might explain why everything else in your life — from basic tasks at school or work to your relationships and creative efforts — just feels more challenging.

So what do we do?

We can look for ways to help ourselves and others meet these needs. I can’t pretend like it’s easy to meet all of these needs.

It’s not.

But we have to try if we’re going to get through this.

And it starts with you. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

If your basic needs aren’t met, it’s very hard to help others meet theirs.

Get some rest.

Stay hydrated and nourished.

Let others help you if you need it.

Recognize that we are living through a collective, shared trauma, but that trauma is a little different for each of us.

Forgive yourself for feeling like things are a little more difficult, because they truly are.

Yes, this is all much easier said than done.

It requires a great deal of strength and resourcefulness to address the fact that some of our fundamental human needs are going unmet right now.

But once we recognize that there are concrete reasons — and solutions — for some of the distress we’re experiencing, we can take action.

We can try to be more aware of our own needs. We can try to be more aware of others’ needs.

And we can try our very best to fulfill these needs, because a world of people pouring from empty cups does little.

But if we can each fill our cup enough to pour a bit into someone else’s, we can make it through this.

We can come out of this long bitter winter renewed, and just like the fragile new life of early spring, we can flourish if we have food, water, sunlight, care, and protection.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Cecilia Brown is city editor at The Mining Journal. She lives in Marquette and can be found hiking if the weather’s nice, or curled up with a book if not. Contact her at cbrown@miningjournal.net.